Daisy
by Pas d'Autres
Summary: The road to stardom is long and rough, especially if the star himself doesn't want it at all. But Levi does. A voice like Eren Jaeger's comes every thousand new moons and damn if he isn't going to put in everything he has to make sure the boy gets out there.
1. Ebb and Flow

**AN:** Title from Stereo Dive Foundation's _Daisy_. Decided to make this happen.

.-.

It takes a moment for Levi to digest what was put into his ears and his arms cross in defiance to the shittiest idea ever presented to him because Erwin knows he'll refuse. He's staring with resolute eyes, hoping the man in front will get the message and drop the idea immediately. He doesn't.

"Levi—"

"No." Means no. Sometimes Erwin doesn't understand the simple concept. It's funny because the blondie says it all the time to disillusioned dreamers hoping to make their career, yet he's giving a golden chance to some amateur. Attempting to, that is. Levi's stubborn tendency is frustrating and Erwin doesn't bother with words. Instead, he takes out an USB and leaves it on the desk.

His pale blue eyes hold confidence even as he exits the premises, leaving Levi to his solitude.

"Your lyrics are good Levi, they're brilliant. But no one will ever witness this brilliance if it doesn't get out. Understand?"

It's _him_ who doesn't understand. Levi's sure that a quarter of the samples waiting to be heard in that USB are real star potentials and have what it takes to represent Smith Records. Erwin may be old and uptight in the ass but he has the sharpest penchant for uncovering new talents.

Levi's also sure 99.9% of that quarter doesn't have what it takes to represent _his_ songs.

Taking a quick scan at the twenty candidates, the frown on Levi deepens with each audition until he finally exits the playlist and shut his laptop with a frustrated scowl. They're all nice. Just _nice_. Nothing in particular, nothing stands out. Nothing coming _close_ to what he wishes for in a voice. And if Erwin thinks anyone can sing the lyrics Levi so wholeheartedly wrote, then he has another thing coming for his record label.

The blonde's earlier chiding hits Levi's mind and his hands reach inside the desk drawer for another Twizzler only to find an empty bag. Well bend him over and fuck him sideways—his day's just getting dandier by the minute.

Not one second wasted, the black-haired man grabs his boat keys and heads out. Levi needs his Twizzlers.

.-.

The good thing about living in a secluded town—if the area is qualified for that status—is that there are only three-hundred people here; most of them retired grandmas and grandpas who stay in their houses. What works even better for Levi is the distance and physical restriction between each cottage.

You stay on your island, he'll stay on his, and if anyone thinks trespassing is legal, then a hole will be blown in their boat before they reach 500 meters from the shore.

He also enjoys an empty supermarket, like now, when the only people visible are the teenagers taking up cash up front. Groceries are a pain to do when you have nagging wives, whining husbands, and screaming babies in a half-empty store.

Levi takes his personal space seriously.

So when the familiar tingle brushes up his spine and he sees a body close beside, he looks with a vexed expression. Maybe he makes a sound too, for the person notices.

"Ah sorry, did I hit you?"

Strike one. No, he wasn't hit by the elbow that's hovering dangerously close to his forehead, but the fact that it almost did because probably the jackass didn't take notice of his (short) presence hits a hidden nerve somewhere. Levi raises his head, ready for a sharp snap of his mouth before everything halts.

Strike two. Jackass has a really nice face. That, Levi is not prepared for. It's young and supple and sharp in the right edges. Though said-face is awfully close. He steps back a few, taking short breathes.

He must have seen Levi's actions as something else. "Do _you_ want the last bag?"

Strike three. _Sour peaches._ Enough said.

Levi grabs his Twizzlers and leaves the candy aisle. Jackass can have all the sour peaches in the world.

He does a few more pick-ups around the fruits and veggies before heading to the dairies. With hesitant disdain. The sight of milk already puts a bitter taste in his mouth but calcium is calcium and he needs his nutrients. Skipping the bag placed at the front—he grimaces at the expiration date—Levi grabs a milk bag and dumps it into his cart, turning just in time to see the kid from earlier.

The brunet gives an easy smile. "Hey there, stranger."

Levi ignores him but he can't ignore how that hand is reaching for the milk-bag in front and he quickly grabs the wrist. "The expiry date's tomorrow."

He takes it anyway. "Did you know, that expiry dates are printed long before the food actually goes bad? It's a strategy to get customers to buy more often."

And then he taps him—_taps him_ on the bloody nose and goes his merry way. Leaving a dumbfounded man gaping still in his spot. Personal space popped, shattered, fucking _violated_. Do strangers do that? Is that a norm nowadays? Maybe Levi needs to get out more—no fuck that. And perhaps a more important question—

Why does he feel _okay_ as if his bubble was not intruded?

The question baffles him all the way to the washroom. It's uncharacteristic of Levi to even enter public toilets but he drank too much apple juice before he left the house in a hurry to restock Twizzlers, and a man's got to go when a man's got to go. At least there are stalls to keep his private business actually private—urinals aren't his thing.

A new song comes up in the background and his brain faintly recognizes as one of his songs—_Ebb and Flow_. It barely distracts him from the grime and wet _unknowns_ smeared on the floor—why are grocery store washrooms embarrassingly filthy? He barely registers another person entering the premise and turning on the tap until a quiet hum joins in.

Then the guy starts singing. His volume ups just slightly, words come out, a clear bright voice comes alive. And Levi stills in his spot. He'd never imagine anyone other than Armin to be capable of delivering the set of lyrics—the young boy's is angelic defined. But this...

This smooth lull that flows into his ears like pearl liquid and melts inside his brain is the first indication. Then the second comes when he realises his stalled breath, lungs as tense as the grip of his fingers. The final is that wave of tingles down his neck and spine that warms back up to his chest. The string snaps as he becomes aware of that warm pool at the bottom of his stomach. It's a familiar feeling. It reminds him of something. Of long ago. Rich and creamy.

He wants it.

He's out of the stall before his belts are done up. Gray eyes frantically look around the place, only to be met with disappointment because Levi's guaranteed the man staring at him, old enough to be his great-grandfather, is _not_ the holder of the wonderful voice his ears were just blessed with. How long was he in the stall for? How long was his entire body entranced still before it realised the song was long over?

He dashes out of the washroom and whips his head right to left, marches up and down the aisles; looking for someone, _anyone_, who has the slightest chance of owning that voice. The one he finally stumbles after three years of nothing, the one that comes by so rarely in every thousand new moons, the perfect one for his unpublished lyrics.

And for once, Levi wishes for a half-full store because there is no one, save for the cashier eyeing him with the same weary look as that old man back there. He huffs in light humour.

"Don't suppose you were the one singing in the restroom?"

The teen doesn't need to shake his head for Levi to know. He exits the supermarket with a nonchalant expression. It's fine, not a big loss. He'll probably bump into it again. It's fine.

.-.

It's not fine.

Because even after a week, the voice is still stuck in his mind, like a fucking bell nailed to the back of his head and ringing non-stop. Levi hears it everywhere—when he wakes up, when he's cooking, _sleeping_. He sometimes wonders if he's stuck there, in his dreams. Or if it's all a hallucination, of some distant memory of an angel that keeps echoing in his mind. _An angel_, Levi associates. He doesn't do angels.

"Shit."

_Rich and creamy_.

When he tries to write, Levi finds himself writing for that voice. He already _hears_ it whispering soft tunes and words. It's creepily unhealthy; the last time this happened was with Armin Arlert, the young boy Erwin chanced upon that Levi enthusiastically approved. But that was when he knew the person.

This one, he doesn't know shit.

And Levi curses nonstop because he knows his entire being will be on pause, hanging on reverie suspension waiting for the owner of the mysterious voice to come for him.

"Shit."

.-.

That saying 'trust your instincts even if you have no reason to' rarely works on Levi. Maybe because he doesn't get 'gut feelings', whatever the hell they are. Things happen for a reason, there's logic behind every action and decision, every word in his lyrics has existential purpose.

So it irks him to no ends when Levi catches himself listening to his instincts. Catches himself yet not do anything, instead stays where he is in front of the little newsstand and perhaps even leaning towards the gossiping ladies sitting on the bench nearby. Well fuck him.

"It's such a shame too, Karla loved the place."

"We all do. The boys go there for little gatherings and remember our Wednesday karaoke nights?

"Her son loved us! Used to sing along too."

"Eren does have a love for music. But now he's slaving over the place. Poor boy."

"It's too much for him—selling it will be the best choice."

And his instinct tells him to carry on, keep listening and waiting for something that'll trigger his feet to move. To where? Levi's not sure. It's the first time he's heard of this _Mama's_ they speak of situated at the end of the road, and he goes. Granted Levi doesn't explore much since apparently this was a town's old favourite.

Unfathomable. The rundown pub looks like it's going to collapse any second and it takes every fibre of his muscles to cringe forward step by step. What is he doing...right, trusting his goddamned instincts. He'd better find some worthy reward for trudging along the mud-filled trail leading to a door with suspicious fuzzy-green _things_ stuck on its wood. God forbid if he contracts some rare virus.

It's equally dark and damp inside. A few tables and chairs around the place, a poorly-set bar counter to the side, all facing the pathetic excuse for a stage in the back. At least the windows are open, allowing in some light, for the light-bulbs seem more like broken décor than lighting. The lack of human presence all the more makes Levi wish he'd never set foot in here but again, instincts pull his feet forward.

"Welcome! Ahh, it's you."

Levi's eyes narrow the boy from the supermarket, the one consumes sour peaches and drinks expired milk—the one who fucking _bopped him on the nose_.

"Anything to start you off with?" His voice more timid suddenly as Levi takes a seat at the bar. The dreary atmosphere no doubt takes a toll on the boy as Levi notes faint dark circles under his eyes.

"Toast and boiled water."

"_Boiled _water?" Thick eyebrows raise in amusement.

"Did I stutter?" It's necessary to burn all those germs and bacteria swimming inside.

The brunet shrugs off his rudeness with a smile and carries on his duty, happily and unaware of gray eyes watching his every move. It's five in the afternoon, bright and sunny outside and he's in a place where clearly no customers come to, with a man in his twenties looking like he's about to drop dead from lack of sleep. Said-man who decides it's a bit too quiet in the air.

"I've never seen you around before, except that day that is. You new?"

"No. Fifteen years here." Levi observes his glass of water.

Surprise grazes his young face. "You don't get out much then."

"Apparently not if the norm of meeting strangers is touching each other's noses."

Green eyes widen and look down with a flushed expression. Better be ashamed you little twerp.

"I umm, yeah...sorry. I tend to act before I think."

Levi scoffs and lets him off. Why he's being this lenient, when other perpetrators would've had their heads blown off by now, is beyond him. There's an awkward silence between them and again instincts, _instincts_ lets his mouth roll out a casual, "nice place you got here."

"Used to be the life of the town," the boy half-jokes, a tinge of bitterness present. "Now it can barely hold itself standing."

"Heard it's closing down."

A flash of pain crosses his green eyes. "Yeah, business is not doing so well. Can't keep holding on to it forever."

There's a hidden meaning under that. The layer of anguish doesn't go unnoticed and stays with Levi, making him pause and think more. More of what, he doesn't know, but instincts are telling him there's _more_ and he needs to find them. Maybe that's why he's still here, participating in a conversation going nowhere at all.

"I'm Eren by the way, Eren Jaeger.

"Levi."

A quiet moment before Eren starts again. "So will you be here for tonight? It's Wednesday Karaoke."

"Trying to rope in customers?"

That doesn't offend Eren at all, seeing the way he pouts. "I'm being a good host! You look like you need a break from me-time."

There's no such thing as a break from me-time. In fact what is he doing, _what_ in the goddamned world is he doing? He should already be nestled up in his office on his very private island, not here mindlessly talking. "It's...not my thing."

Eren snorts. "What _is_ your thing? Being cooped up in your house?"

Actually yes, Levi wants to answer but the boy beat him. "It'll be fun. It's almost six, why don't you stay and check it out?"

Slapping the tablecloth down, Eren leans on the counter with outstretched arms and an unruly, inviting smile. It unintentionally gives Levi a full view on Eren's structure and he appreciates the simple tee clinging onto his lean build. The boy has a handsome face, Levi notes, and it'd do Erwin wonders if he can sing too.

_If the boy can sing_.

A hopeful thought forms in Levi's mind.

"Are you going to join?"

Milky clouds appear in Eren's eyes before he straightens back. Hesitance, retreat, aloofness—whatever it is, it has Eren silenced. The life in his small grin gone, empty—it'd be better if there were smile at all, Levi hates empty smiles. As with his gaze, down-casted to the floor looking into somewhere deeper than the physical medium and Levi almost wishes he hadn't asked that question.

Almost turns to absolutely when the boy lets out three words that twists his guts and his instincts start kicking and screaming.

"I don't sing."

.-.

He stays until evening, silently agreeing to Eren's invitation for karaoke night (goddamned it why). The two exchanged little words afterwards, Eren bustling to get the pub ready and Levi just...sitting there with his glass of boiled water and chewing on the Twizzlers he brought with.

He doesn't leave it alone, the boy's earlier claim. It's irking. Fine, if you say you don't sing, then you don't. But the way he says it, the way his face softly twists with slight hurt matching the tone in his voice, Levi's instincts demand him to not leave it alone.

When the sun starts to set, customers slowly pile in one by one. For some reason, he's glad it becomes crowded, despite his nerves acting up again. He's glad to see Eren busying around the tables, chatting up the people and taking orders. Business doesn't seem _that_ bad. It's not a full house, but customers are still customers.

It puts a strain to his personal bubble, but he can't deny the quaint atmosphere, almost comfortable to be in. Save for the ear-wrecking performance by a few drunks up on stage, there's a sense of familiarity and harmony in this small shack of a pub. It's honestly the first time Levi's witnessed such concept of 'tight community'.

"A new guest I see," a soft voice calls out and Levi finds a demure-looking blonde taking the seat beside him. A little close. "Passing by?"

A short 'hmm' escapes hm.

A minute of a pondering stare goes by before her blue eyes glimmer. "Are you perhaps...the one from _Treasure Island_?"

What? His look asks.

"The island with the gorgeous house and beautiful lawn, that's what we call it," the girl describes with envy, "The one we never see who exactly lives on."

Levi gives a nonchalant shrug, not denying her words, and she looks like she solved the biggest mystery in the world. Well who would've thought he was gossiped about in this tiny town? He assumes minding his own business would be enough to live unnoticed.

The blonde sure likes to talk to strangers, especially ones that are dark and quiet who obviously gives off the aura of not wanting to talk. She babbles on regardless. "_Mama's_ is closing down soon, I heard. A real loss."

_Life of the town_, he recalls Eren's words not realising he vocalized them.

"It certainly is! Miss Karla was such a sweet person, she loved this place as much as everyone did." Her eyes trail after Eren, gloom taking over. "I'm sure Eren loves it just as much."

Levi can't help but to follow the girl's direction. There's no doubt in that. If Erwin had come, he'd leave the place immediately with no interest in his eyes. Even he can see no worth investing here. Yet, Eren still runs from table to table with the most earnest look on his face, as if appreciating and promising his guests that this place will be better. But...

"Business is business," Levi states in a deadpan tone. The young girl doesn't respond, because she agrees with him and can't add anything else. The two waits as the drunken performers offs the stage and a new song begins—_Ebb and Flow_—and that ghost voice rises in Levi's head again (rich and creamy). He dryly amuses himself in the chance that he'll find it here of all places.

He then notices how Eren stops and looks to the stage, where a half-decent volunteer starts her lyrics. The boy hasn't stopped the entire night, busying serving his clients, yet now of all times he takes a moment. A relaxed air circles him, gone suddenly are the tensions built up from the evening—his expression close to bitter reminiscence.

"It's Karla's favourite song," the girl chirps again. "She used to sing it all the time."

"Where is she?" Levi finds himself asking, pride warming inside and he wants to know the woman who holds his lyrics dear.

The girl flickers to the counter with a somber smile. "Gone."

.-.

He stays until closing. Lord knows why.

Maybe instincts tell him to, especially after hearing about Karla Jaeger. Car accidents happen all the time, yet it's still an unaccepting event for the residents. Perhaps that's what made Eren stop in the middle of the room when his mother's favourite piece came up—a memory of her.

He exits the pub when he realises he's the last person in the room and Eren's nowhere to be seen. He's out of Twizzlers anyway, that familiar itch crawls up from his stomach, and he hurries to get home, back to his me-time. Just as he walks down the muddy trail, his ears catch something delightful.

_Rich and creamy_.

No hesitation. One step, two step, then a few more. Around the wooden building, to the side. Only one person present, waddling with two garbage bags and spilling music in a low tone. It's soft and quiet, and if Levi's ears weren't that sharp he wouldn't have recognized it. But it's the same one. _Rich and creamy_.

Mystery solved. It's got to be the glowing eyes and the unruly yet model-appropriate hair and the sincere smile and that handsome face. And that bright voice. Everything's bright. Full of delight. Much light. Too high. Damn the poetic side of him.

"You do sing."

Eren snaps around, eyes big as a dear caught in headlights. His jaw open, but no words come out. It's the dead of the night and without Eren's melody, Levi suddenly feels swallowed by the silence.

"You do sing," he enforces, maybe a little too strong.

"I don't!" The boy lashes out, his grip on the bags tightens visibly. "I don't."

Then what the hell was that, Levi's narrowed eyes ask, what the _hell_ was _that_? Eren understands, for his lips tighten closed shame and he looks to the ground with frustrated agony. It's a different side of him, complete opposite to the jovial boy who bopped him on the nose, stated useless facts about milk, and invited him to karaoke night.

In a stronger tone, one that tells of finality in his words, Eren whispers again, "I don't sing. Ever."

.-.

The too-tall-too-polished doors slam open as a black-haired man stalks across the too-white-too-polished room.

Blue eyes look up in surprise. "Levi, what are you doi—"

Said man throws the USB back to Erwin and slams his palm down on the too-Mahogany-too-polished desk. The strong determination, present only every thousand new moons, swims intensely in Levi's gray eyes.

"I have my voice."

.-.

**AN:** Half-inspired by Yuki Kaji's beautiful and delicious voice—if Eren can moan like that, imagine his singing. Levi may or may not be a little too cocky (is 'lyricist' an occupation?)...please let me know if he's too OOC (still trying to feel the characterization). The tone in this chapter is all over the place –cries– On a side note, the pub was almost named _Titan Dong _thanks to daiki-aho. Criticism is greatly welcomed and appreciated!


	2. Voice

_Voice – Pay Money to My Pain ft. Taka_

.-.

It's a natural thing. The lyrics go to him, flow in like rivers that never die out, because it's connected to an ocean of words and emotions and all that crap he lets out in pen. It's supposed to be second nature, like taking a daily crap and you just _let it out_. So it makes Levi wonder why all of a sudden the rivers stopped their flow and left his mind completely blank.

Wiped out, writer's block. A pile of shitty words stuck in constipation.

87% he is very sure it's got to do with a certain bright-eyed boy containing the voice of an angel. Like, fuck. He's gone already. Even more so now that he knows where exactly to find him. Yeah, Levi's positive all this block is due to Eren and his refusal to share his voice and he wonders why. It puzzles him, frustrates him. He desperately wants to _hear_ again—rich and creamy.

So he's there the next day—the very next day. Early at noon, first one to enter when the sign switches from 'closed' to 'open'. He gets a weary glance from Eren and acts indifferent to it. He's a customer, damn well he be welcomed with no prejudiced treatments. Granted Levi did run his mouth off at the young owner the night before, spewing out without thinking—

"_Bullshit. What the hell was that?"_

_They both know exactly what that was earlier on yet Eren has the gall to shrug and straight-out lie. "I don't know."_

_Fuck he doesn't know. Levi squints his eyes, pushes forward. "Ever had training? Vocal class?"_

_Eren continues to act oblivious, passing the other man without a glance._

"_Self-taught? School club?" With just the right amount of professional guidance, this kid can _make it_. With Levi's songs, he can make it big. His voice can make it out there—it needs to be shared and put into good use._

_A little growl forms as Eren hauls the garbage bags into the dumpster, Levi closely following behind. "I took nothing, okay? Just drop it man."_

_So a natural. A naturally talented voice that barely needs any vocal training because he's already _got it_. A rare gem in a mine indeed and Levi wonders where the boy got it from._

"_Your mother," Eren freezes on spot. "Your mother gave it to you."_

_It's too late to withdraw his words as Eren's fists are already shaking uncontrollably. His back to him, the young man warns in a dangerously low voice, "drop it."_

Erwin had a good laugh at his tactics, damn old man. He was expecting results when Levi announced his discovery of Eren but all he got was an anticlimactic story of how he failed to capture the young boy's interest. That's not how you do it, he told him, you start small and reel him in slowly. There's a process almost, on how to small-talk people out of their shells before going to the main dish—be casual, set it up, slither in the details, then go for the kill.

Blondie can shove said process up his ass and shit it out. Levi's not wiggling through any of that bull.

"Oi," Levi calls out, "calmed down from yesterday?"

Eren halts his cleaning, leans back against the table and gives Levi that incredulous look. "Seriously?"

"What."

"You go right for the kill huh?"

"Time is precious kid, and shouldn't be wasted on bullshit." That's up in Erwin's aisle.

Eren spares him a look before going back to the table-tops. "Then don't be wasting your time on me stranger, you'll get nothing."

He had a hunch it'd be like that and he stays wordless for the moment. Levi watches as Eren goes to prepare for tonight's customers. It's still early in the afternoon and not a single soul budges from outside. From busy periods till closing time, there are only minimal hours to milk every cent out of people's pockets. Too little reward for shit tons of work—yet Eren still puts every bit of his soul into this place.

Kid's a wonder.

A real wonder. For the next hour or so they co-exist in the same space silently, Eren not sparing Levi a single glance while the latter observes with eagle-eyes. The young man doesn't want to talk to him, Levi gets it; but all of sudden, like he can't take it anymore, the boy blows a sigh and breaks out. Like a natural good host, he offers a "can I get you anything? Boiled water? You sitting there with nothing is making me anxious."

"What are you going to do after you sell this shithole?"

Green eyes gawk at him, and silver fights back with unrelenting waves. Eren shakes his head with a light chuckle. "Wow. Thanks for answering my question with such a nice response."

"I don't do nice."

"Yeah I can see that."

"I do honesty."

This makes Eren falter in his steps and look to Levi, apprehension in his eyes like he's asking for elaboration. Levi doesn't have any—that's that. Honesty is honesty, what more can you colour on that? Levi strays his eyes to the countertop, fingers lining along the wooden scratches.

"Too many layers of crap people pile on in this world. Lies upon lies, fucking up their minds and voices." Levi gazes back to Eren, unfazed. "_Your_ voice, speaks honesty. Clear blue."

The brunet takes a moment to digest that all, looking deep in thoughts. Then he shrugs and nonchalantly replies, "I don't know, go to college I guess. Get some diploma, work."

"What a shitty plan."

"It's a shitty world."

Levi breaks a small chortle. Can't disagree there.

.-.

"_Find his purpose. Something that can drive him, inspire him. Free him out of that shell."_

"_Don't you dare start breaking out that philosophical fuckery."_

"_(sigh) Want me to come down there?"_

"_Hell'a fuck no."_

"_Then I sure hope you know what you're doing. I'm anticipating what this boy can bring for us."_

Of course he knows what the fuck he's doing. If Erwin so advises to 'find his purpose', then Levi will damn well find a freaking purpose for the kid. And if that means going to that pothole of a place frequently, then he'll do it.

On days when it's pouring, Levi doesn't bother with the mud outside and stays where it's fresh and clean. On days when it's not, he finds himself at the pub. It's rowdy when evening sets in so Levi leaves before then. He orders nothing but boiled water, having his own bag of Twizzlers ready to be emptied.

"You're going to get diabetes one day," Eren lightly comments.

Levi figures Eren doesn't want to either given their rocky start. Yet the young man surprises him with his ever welcoming-chirp and unabashed act of swiping Levi's Twizzler strand from his hand.

Levi pulls another one from his pocket. "Better than lung cancer."

"Candy doesn't give you that..."

"Cigarettes do."

Eren arches his brow. "Used to smoke?"

"A pack per day." Feeling jitters, Levi pulls out another Twizzler strand.

Eren chirps suddenly, "well then, I'm glad," and steals the snack from Levi's hand again. "more Twizzlers for me to jack."

"Cheeky."

The boy merely smiles and sets off to wipe dry the wine glasses. Levi takes a moment to take a good look at him. At one side he's looking a bit too young on the face, a child not having experienced much of the world yet and placed awkwardly behind the pub counter; on the other he holds just enough maturity to make it out on his own will and strength.

"Soo," the boy draws out, "do you have any place to be? Things to do, like..a job?"

"I write."

Eren wiggles his eyebrows. "Ohh, mysterious author I see."

"Don't hold your hopes up kid," Levi scoffs. "I'm a lyricist."

A confused look comes across his puppy face. "You can live off of that?"

"Who knows." Levi looks away from Eren, knowing the other's attentively asking for details with his big eyes. He doesn't give more, he doesn't need to. The subject at hand isn't him but the boy with a golden voice. Why the hell are they discussing his personals?

Eren doesn't push and he moves on to set the tables and chairs straight. "Are there any songs from you that I should know of?"

"Why, going to sing them?"

He laughs it off. "Nice try. Just wondering if your lyrics ever got anywhere."

Levi shoots a look and clears his throat. "_'You ask me why, with a wavering voice. The swaying reflection of the rising moon, shows us nothing. It's only a bystander, same with us right?'_"

He recites with low volume. Vocalizing his own works is not his thing to do and the wavering cracks here and there proves his unwilling disposition. Levi forgets for a second how Eren's gawking at him like he's just discovered the century's biggest treasure until he feels a familiar crawl up his skin and he meets crisp green eyes.

"You wrote _Ebb and Flow_?"

Levi shrugs as if it's nothing. It really is. It was one of those works which resulted from him feeling constipated and needing to vomit out some sweet words to get them emotions out of his system. Never meant to be a hit song.

Eren shoots out a surprised laugh. "Who would've thought. This grumpy old man writing something deep and flowery."

"Arlet made it flowery," Levi growls. Damn blondie, but only his voice can make the song work.

"Oh but I love Armin Arlet," Eren's face lights up, his bright eyes sparkling at the mention of the young singer. "His voice is one of a kind."

Without thinking, Levi jumps to opportunity. "So is yours."

The boy pulls a small wavering smile and turns his back on Levi, fixing up the amenities on the table even though there isn't much to fix.

Levi watches closely. "They'll love your voice."

"I don't _want_ them to," comes his immediate reply.

"You got a loose screw or something? There are desperate people who'd shit bricks to have talent half as good as yours and you don't even want it."

"People might get hurt." He's wiping the tabletop now, same spot every time. Levi clicks his tongue, knowing half-assed lies when he hears one.

He stares at Eren with a blank expression. "This place does you no good. Alchohol's getting to you."

Well fuck his mouth clean. But it's already too late as Eren stills in his hunched stance, hand gripping the cloth tightly.

"Yeah. Maybe that's it.

.-.

Levi worries he's stepped on a landmine, but Eren acts like nothing was ever heard and said.

The next time he comes to _Mama's_, the air is most with a refreshing after-shower scent. It takes great effort and will for Levi to trudge through leftover mud and damp grounds. At least the kid keeps the inside clean and dry.

"You didn't come for three days," Eren greets, taking the man back because he was expecting an unwelcoming . "I was scared you got kidnapped or something."

It's like the boy literally disregards all his fuckups and keeps only the good—no holding grudges. A peculiar trait. He's so…forgetful—no, _forgiving_. Honestly makes Levi's job easier—no dilly-dallying with words.

"Do I look like I allow myself be kidnapped?"

"You _do_ look—"

"Shut it. Wipe your tables."

Eren gives a bright laughter, and it fills a hidden gap that Levi wasn't even aware. The familiar scent of wood-musk mixed with last night's alcohol brings familiar comfort for Levi and he doesn't realise how much he's missed the fluttering of a tall twenty-something year old boy around the open space. The dead silence at home has suddenly become a little unbearable.

"So you coop yourself up in your house whenever it's raining," Eren claims, setting down a mug of hot water for Levi.

"It's a bother."

The brunet pulls a grin and rests his chin on his interlocked hands. He's leaning behind the counter with that same old raggedy apron that needs to be thoroughly washed, two bobby-pins restraining his unruly bangs, and fuck, Levi remembers, people would love him for his voice and looks.

"Wow, and here I thought you were dedicated to see me everyday."

Levi takes a sip, eyes on the mug in front of him. "I know you're always here Eren. You're not going anywhere."

And the way he says it, it strikes something in both of them.

Eren's the one who shows it of course, having to clear his throat awkwardly and stumble away. He clumsily looks for the broom in the cleaning cupboard and almost trips over the damn thing. Levi watches with slight humour and cups at the hot mug of water appreciatively.

A purpose, Erwin says. Easier said than done. It's been two weeks since the discovery of _Mama's _and still no progress. The only thing he knows most about Eren is how hard he's working for a collapsing business that's fading into history.

Levi surveys his eyes around the dingy place, lining the old rickety wood that holds this place up, if not with a bit of struggle. An eyesore, really, but still a beloved place.

_Mama's_.

Of course.

He finds himself calling out, "Eren."

"Yeah?"

"Tell me about your mom."

"She's...she's gone."

Levi makes a small noise with his teeth. "I know that. Talk to me about her."

"Jesus Christ you have no sense of shame do you?"

"Lost it long time ago."

The younger gives him an incredulous look.

"I want to know about the original owner of this pub. That so bad?"

This time, he receives a tentative look. Then contemplation. And a hesitant sigh, a breath of weary readiness before he parts his lips.

"She's mom."

.-.

She was mom.

Simple as that.

One role, one title, one word.

But she was everything at the same time. She was Eren's mom and that was all it took for Karla Jaeger to be Eren's everything.

She had the softest eyes—big, round, full of colour and life. People say Eren got the same glint as her, the very same flash that spoke of strength and will in her hazel orbs. She had a sharp outlook on things around her, intuition or that sort of thing.

It was why she always knew what was up with Eren.

He used to sneak in milk and cookies before going to bed. Mom pretended she didn't know and one night when little Eren thought she was elsewhere, he tiptoed around the kitchen and latched open the cupboard, only to find a sign reading 'caught red-handed young man'. He turned quickly only to see mom holding the cookie jar with a knowing smirk on her face.

She didn't get angry nor yell at him. She only relayed a short message that stuck with Eren for the rest of his life.

"Mom is very hurt that Eren lied to me."

He never wanted to lie to her again.

She was big on lying and deceitful behaviour—reminded Eren every day to be kind and grateful to others. A saint in the eyes of others, the people adored her sweet person and treasured her presence. What drawn them more was the enchantment of her voice—a soothing bell-like sound that flowed in their ears and left echoes in their minds. The town's siren, they deemed her as, and Eren was ever so proud.

Mom loved to sing. She sang around the house, when she took walks, while she did groceries, anytime anywhere. When one day she thought of opening up a karaoke place, dad was fully behind, giving support even though he had hesitant opinions. It wouldn't be too much profit earned, seeing how this was a small town—especially if most of its people are elderlies who'd crack their voice and have heart attacks before getting to the chorus.

She opened a pub instead—_Mama's_—and opted for a weekly karaoke night on Wednesdays. Not many customers at first, but they began to pile in when they heard of Karla's singing. Eren admitted, it's not the best shack of all shacks in this dingy corner of the road, not the very least appealing to any passerby but it worked out. The townspeople called it _their_ hangout, like some central headquarters only the residents of Rideau Lakes could enter.

She called it their second home—her and Eren's. She loved the place just as much as Eren did. It was an incredible feeling when you're amongst familiar faces and having the time of your life _every night_. And he loved to hear her sing most of all. They all did. It was an unspoken rule to shut your mouth and freeze your body whenever Karla Jaeger stepped on the small makeshift of a stage.

He sometimes joined in, as harmony or the male counterpart to hers. Puberty hadn't hit him yet at the point and they all say he had a voice of an angel—whatever that meant. He felt great joy singing for the crowd and even greater delight singing with mom. He could _feel_ himself light up like an excited start ready to burst in exhilarated emotions.

He loved it, embraced it.

One night when they were closing up, these two men exited the pub and instead taking the trail down to the main road, waddled around the side and found Eren. Drunk off their minds, they were the infamous pair that created a ruckus earlier that night.

They were revolting, really—messed up face with unshaved facial hair, their expensive suits disheveled from their fooling around, and couldn't even stand still for one second. They commented on how Eren's voice was so pretty, words slurred out their disgusting mouth, and continued to demand another song from the fourteen year-old boy.

"How 'bout another song with that arousing voice of yours, eh pretty boy? Sure got us going in there."

"Oi little brat, when a gentleman ask you to sing for them, you fucking do it 'kay? Didn't that pretty bitch of your mother teach you anything?" One of them snarled, the nice composure gone in a second.

He was fourteen, just reaching that age where temper suddenly grew into a bigger flame and like all prepubescent boys, he welcomed it.

"Fuck off losers! Don't talk 'bout my mom like that. I don't sing for drunken losers who clearly have no self-control over themselves so get lost."

If only he held it in.

Because the next thing he knew, those two pigs were charging at him, he was backing up to the side of the wall and held his fists up for protection. Two against one was a loss for him, but he was fourteen and he didn't know better and he was fucking pissed. There were messy slaps across his face and a few good punches to his body, he was lucky to have landed cat-scratches on their skin.

He then heard a desperate cry of his name and then he was shoved harshly to the ground, head hitting ground first and for a moment he became nauseous from contact. There was struggle, and grunts and screaming. He heard skin-slapping and body rolling. His mother's strong but terrified screams were what joined him to sleep as he faded out to blackness.

They said she got stabbed by a pocket-knife on the side, hitting one of the major organs. Why someone was carrying a knife was beyond Eren but it was what it was. Damn cowards fled the scene right after but Eren would recognize their faces. They were quickly caught and put in jail and that was the end of it.

The end.

The two fuckers were still alive and his mom was no more. He couldn't hear her voice anymore.

He was fourteen.

.-.

He doesn't leave his island for days.

The weather's gorgeous these days, no rain at all. He isn't sick or feeling broody. There's no excuse for him not to step out and visit _Mama's_.

Except that he's found it again, his muse. The lyrics returns as if they'd never left, words rushing in wave after wave now that the invisible dam is broken and the river is in motion again. And Levi's not going to let any drop slip by his pen.

He already has three pages written—scratches really. The rest of the seven were rolled up in discarded balls lined up on the edge of his desk. This one, he knows what it's about, whom it's for. Just like always, he only knows of one person perfect enough to sing this—rich and creamy filling up his ears.

When he asked Eren about his mother, he was expecting a mere story. Not fuck ton of unsuspecting butterflies and memories crawling back from some corner of his brain. The way he spoke of her—that far-off distant look in his water-glazed eyes, the way his lips parted to a slight frown but then pulled up in a bittersweet smile because he was talking about his mom.

His mother.

And the whole time, Levi felt a pull of some invisible rope that encircled his chest that dragged his unwilling self back to a time of his own. When _he_ would take strolls and play games and listen to _his_ mother sing. When _he_ would feel the warmth and loving care of a woman from once upon a time. When _he_ would hear a beautiful voice that was lost and now found again.

That was so long ago.

Levi forgot all about it.

But no way is the kid going to forget all of his.

The next time Levi enters _Mama's_, he carries a thin folder stapled on the corners. He pulls a small scowl when Eren looks at the mysterious object in hesitance.

"For you," he slaps it on the counter.

Eren takes it with a deadpan expression. "Staples, really?"

"So none of the shit falls out and goes into the wrong hands."

The brunet chokes out laughing. "You have some top-secret information that the government's not supposed to know?"

"You dimwit, I'm taking precaution so no other asshats get a look at my song," Levi halts his Twizzler-nibbling and looks at Eren with strong intent. "Your..song now."

He's looking to back away and return the sudden offending folder, unease swimming across his face, but Levi stops him before he sets his mind on anything definite.

"I'm not going to let a week's worth of sweat and tears be thrown away into the shit pile."

In other words, have a look at it, give it a chance.

Eren, having this slight guilt on his face, slowly rips apart the stapling and takes out the contents. "There are..no notes."

"I'm a lyricist, not a songwriter."

"Then how do you expect your stuff to be sung?"

Gray eyes dart forth to green, demanding Eren not to look away. "Once I'm done, I hand my crap to the artists and they take over. Do whatever the hell they want with it."

Eren scrunches his eyebrows in deep confusion. "Aren't you afraid they'll screw it up?"

"Who's to know I'm not the one who fucked up first. I trust my artists Eren," Levi keeps his gaze locked with the boy, "I chose them myself, afterall."

Realisation dawns on the young man, realising that he is one of those few handpicked by Levi. Eren looks down at the two-page piece, this time with more consideration. He takes a silent moment to scan through the words, line by line, fingers tightening as he reaches the end. Eren folds his lips in an attempt to hide his quivering but Levi knows from the way his eyes are glistening.

They both know who this is for.

"Thank you," comes a small wavering tone.

Levi doesn't reply, doesn't need to. From Eren's reaction, he knows those words are safe with the boy. But who is Eren to thank, when he's the one who helped bring back a forgotten voice. Levi doesn't realize he's been holding that piece of Twizzler in his mouth this whole time until now, and he only starts chewing when he sees gratitude. Good, the kid likes the song.

Eren bursts out a short chuckle and palms over his eyes, showing only an opened-mouth but teary smile. "She'd love it, adore it! She'd frame it, sing it every day!"

Levi takes another bite of his Twizzler strand and looks around the place. Same old shitty wooden cabin, same old haven of memories and so much more. Erwin said to find a purpose for Eren.

Well. Here's a purpose.

"Eren."

Said-boy looks up with the roundest eyes, clearing still caught up in emotions.

"Sing this, and I will help you keep _Mama's_."

.-.

_Though the sound has stopped,  
>the echo is still fills inside our bodies afterwards.<br>What we will hear from there,  
>isn't his words nor his melody;<br>but his voice that's living now inside of me._

.-.

**AN:** lol i have no idea what im doing...but i think i fucked it up. and im pretty sure thats not how the process of song-producing works but hey levis special. thanks for reading. _Voice_ was a song by PTP, sung by their good friend Taka from One Ok Rock, dedicated to PTP's singer, Kei, who passed away due to heart failure. I felt this is one appropriate song for Karla Jaeger.

Feedback greatly appreciated. You can also find me on tumblr: no-other-words.


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